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Author(s): Caroline Dadas

Beginning in October 2017, the #MeToo movement has brought widespread attention to sexual assault and harassment, experiences that remain pervasive. The phrase "me too" was first used by activist Tarana Burke in 2006 during her non-profit work at Just Be Inc. providing resources for people who had experienced sexual assault. In the wake of sexual assault allegations against Harvey Weinstein in 2017, actor Alyssa Milano tweeted a message with the hashtag to illustrate the pervasiveness of sexual assault and harassment. When Tarana Burke was interviewed in 2019 as part of the Time 100 Summit, she acknowledged that it is easy for most people to condemn the actions of someone like Harvey Weinstein; she argues that the work of the movement now involves drilling down into less straightforward scenarios. In her comments, Burke references the tendency for people to get upset about allegations against so-called "good guys": "But when we start talking about...the good guy who's an ally to women, who looks out for everybody, who's a stand-up person, but maybe behaves in a way that is too permissive, then [people think] it's a problem" (). As #MeToo has begun to broaden its scope to focus on more nuanced interactions, I review the popular press conversation around the movement, offering a snapshot of the public discourse around #MeToo as it has played out over the last two years, to try to answer the following research questions: Does popular press coverage suggest that #MeToo is disrupting the power dynamics that allow sexual harassment to thrive? Whose voices are being amplified in the popular press coverage of the #MeToo movement?

Because popular press coverage not only reflects but also influences how people respond to social justice movements, I focus on coverage of the #MeToo movement from its initial dramatic beginnings to its more recent reckoning with the kind of difficult scenarios Burke references. In this article, I discuss two trends in the #MeToo pieces I analyzed: the need for an increased intersectional approach, and the exposure of continued rifts in feminist thought. This data offers insight into my research questions. While the movement has unquestionably found some success in highlighting the pervasiveness of sexual assault, it remains constrained by limitations. Despite its origins in the work of a Black woman activist (Burke), #MeToo is not sufficiently incorporating an intersectional approach to its activism; rather, it is de-centering the voices of people of color and queer people. Additionally, the movement remains hamstrung by a brand of feminism-present since the women's movement in the 1970s-that emphasizes individual agency and self-sufficiency.

I situate the work of #MeToo as rhetorical, grounded in an understanding of how power functions and can be disrupted. Throughout my textual analysis, I draw on Jay Dolmage's (2014) definition of rhetoric as "the strategic study of the circulation of power through communication" (). His emphasis on power proves critical for a site of research like #MeToo, where participants are attempting to shift power dynamics through the tactic of speaking out publicly. I conceptualize power as a relational dynamic that enables or constrains people's decision-making capabilities ( Sullivan and Porter, 1997; Fischer, 2000; Simmons, 2007). The #MeToo movement has identified the many ways that people can take advantage of their privilege to exert influence on someone else in a way that benefits them. As I will show later, these benefits can include work status, control in a relationship, or maintaining the exclusion of certain groups to the advantage of others within an institution (for example, publicly harassing female candidates so that women are discouraged from running for office). Scholars in rhetoric and composition have developed methodologies that speak to the ability for rhetoric to erode and dismantle these institutionalized systems of power. James E. Porter et al. argue for a methodology of institutional critique that draws on theories of postmodern mapping to discern "zones of ambiguity" and unstable boundaries where intervention might be possible. They explain,

Our viewpoint is cautiously hopeful-though, realistic, we think-about the possibility of changing institutions. Our basic claim is this: Though institutions are certainly powerful, they are not monoliths; they are rhetorically constructed human designs (whose power is reinforced by buildings, laws, traditions, and knowledge-making practices) and so are changeable. In other words, we made 'em, we can fix 'em. ( 611)

In framing institutions as comprised of rhetoric, these scholars offer a pathway for rhetorical intervention against seemingly impenetrable social structures. If we think of sexual harassment, misogyny, and patriarchy as institutions, #MeToo uses rhetoric to intervene in them, largely by naming the systemic practices of abuse and harassment-often gone unspoken-by which these institutions sustain themselves. This type of intervention builds toward a hopeful future in which abuse and harassment may not be as deeply engrained in women's experiences as they are today. As Sarah Burgess (2018) contends, #MeToo is less about legislating the past and more about engaging in an act of political imagination:

advocates understand that themselves to be participating in a politics that aims to being about yet-to-be-imagined future. Such a politics, it seems, is built on the ability to define what is appropriate, healthy, and ethical in sexual encounters, without relying on or reproducing the traditions and norms that have created systemic inequalities. ( 346)

People who participate in #MeToo are using the power derived from speaking out and connecting with others who have had similar experiences to chip away at exclusionary institutions and norms.

The tactic of speaking against powerful institutions as a truth-telling device has a long tradition in rhetoric, illustrated in the Greek concept of parrhesia. As explained by Michel Foucault (2001), "Parrhesia is a verbal activity in which a speaker expresses his [sic] personal relationship to truth, and risks his life because he recognizes truth-telling as a duty to improve or help other people (as well as himself)" ( 19). The speaker is compelled to truth-telling out of "duty," which comes at great personal risk. We can interpret the risk in participating in #MeToo as involving one's literal life, in the case of domestic abuse or other violent altercations, or pertaining to quality of life factors such as employment and mental well-being. Foucault also emphasizes that parrhesiastes utilize "frankness" in their utterance(s), thereby opening themselves up to criticism from those who do not appreciate the sentiment being conveyed with such directness (or at all). Because harassers often rely upon a culture of silence and shame to shield the behavior and not face repercussions, #MeToo's rhetorical strategy of communicating openly about abuse and harassment represents an attempt at intervening in an unstable institutional boundary, per the institutional critique methodology. Once the #MeToo movement reached a certain level of publicity, the "duty" that survivors felt in telling their own story derived, in part, from the hope that the force of the intervention might be more impactful through sheer numbers.

The circulatory capacity of online platforms can enable parrhesiastic discourse not only to reach significant numbers of people but also to yield an affective impact on readers. As Kyle Larson (2018) argues, positioning persuasion as the main goal of rhetorical exchanges ignores the affective capacity of online communications that do not emphasize rational, Western, logocentric argumentation. Through his research on a feminist Tumblr blogger, Farrah, Larson argues that Farrah uses a rhetorical technique called remonstrative agitation "as a performative, parrhesiastic rhetoric to continue and even further incite the affective circulation of counterdiscourse in the pursuit of feminist, anti-imperialist recognition of her humanity in the broader public sphere" ( 263). Through "remonstrative agitation"-which includes rhetorical anger¹ Farrah and other online activists use parrhesiastic rhetoric to counter the dominant discourses that circulate online (and in the culture more broadly) by making counterdiscourses more visible. Through increased exposure to rhetorical stances and points of view that are feminist, anti-racist, and anti-imperialist in nature, activists remain hopeful that readers can learn from these points of view. Larson offers a personal testimonial to the effectiveness of this type of approach: "Increased circulation of counterdiscourse offers further opportunities for those socialized by dominant discourse to reencounter the counterdiscourse again and again over time and therefore to potentially learn from and become a participant in it-like me" ( 274). Parrhesia in online settings (as with #MeToo) can reflect a remonstrative stance rather than the more logocentric approaches that we often associate with rhetoric. The counterdiscourses that result can affect change by merely being present and available for audiences to encounter.

In the case of #MeToo, enacting parrhesia is implicated in the body, given that the truths being told involve physical contact, verbal assaults on one's body, and other forms of harassment. Some of the most notable recent work on the body in rhetoric and composition comes from the specialization of disability studies, with its focus on normative practices and how they influence people's bodies. In elaborating on his definition of rhetoric, Dolmage responds to Aristotle's canonical definition ("the faculty of discovering in any particular case all of the available means of persuasion") by arguing that "the body has never been fully or fairly understood for it role in shaping and multiplying these available means" ( 3). While Dolmage is interested in how expectations of normalcy attempt to exert control over bodies (9), his point about the omission of the body as an available means of persuasion applies to #MeToo. In truth-telling about the trauma of physical/mental/emotional harassment, survivors have located the body at the forefront of their rhetorical activity. The experience of abuse has been culturally coded as a "private" matter, something that should not be talked about in an open forum like Twitter. By sharing their stories, parrhesiastes are using taboo available means such as calling attention to their bodies.

While #MeToo has instigated discussion of harassment and assault on a broad scale, I want to acknowledge the long history of feminist and queer thinkers, and women of color in particular, for agitating around sexual harassment for decades; these scholars and activists have long called attention to the kinds of behaviors that #MeToo critiques. They have developed a body of work that examines the institutionalized harassment women face in the workplace ( MacKinnon, 1979); how overlapping social identities experience discrimination ( Crenshaw, 1989; Lorde, 1984); gender performativity ( Butler, 1990); the social construction of biology based on gender stereotypes ( Martin, 1991); modes of feminist resistance ( Combahee River Collective Statement, 1977; Crunk Feminist Collection, 2017); the policing of heteronormativity ( Lorde, 1984; Halberstam, 2011); and multimodal feminist archival collection ( Eversley, 2015). Through this work-and more that I cannot adequately address here-feminists have undertaken a world-making project, responding to injustices against marginalized populations and offering alternate models for living and working. These interventions have resulted in changes in a variety of sectors, including education (curricula) and the workplace (anti-harassment policies). This collective feminist work has offered research and a theoretical foundation to support #MeToo's central claim that misogynistic behavior toward women is systemic.

Before I analyze my findings and position #MeToo as a power-disruption tactic, I first provide an overview of my methods for this study.

I offer a rhetorical analysis of the popular discourse surrounding the movement based on a review of 100 popular press articles about #MeToo. I chose 100 articles as my corpus in an attempt at being thorough; articles that include the phrase "me too" encompass a wide array of topics and perspectives, and I wanted to encounter as many as I could. I began with a corpus that positioned me to inductively come to working conclusions about what is being said about the movement. Using a grounded theory methodology, I also employed a critical discourse analysis approach. In his work on hashtag activism, Nicholas DeArmas (2018) argues for the usefulness of critical discourse analysis in highlighting power dynamics, especially when comparing multiple texts. This method allowed me to effectively address my research questions, both of which are oriented around the distribution of power. Through close reading, I noted trends that not only appeared frequently in the data, but also trends that, while more limited by comparison, seemed to upset prior assumptions about #MeToo (my last section about longstanding rifts within feminism falls into this category). In other words, while the mainstream media encourages us to focus on a few elements of #MeToo (e.g., the codes "consent" and "backlash" were well-represented within my data set), I am interested in amplifying some perspectives represented in the corpus that may not garner significant attention in the media. One such perspective is the need to center intersectionality within the movement.

I located all popular press articles through a Google search for the term "#MeToo." In order to foreground articles from a variety of perspectives, I also searched "queer #MeToo," "critiques of #MeToo" and "#MeToo criticism."² In the process of deciding on my final corpus, I ended up discarding several pieces that included a superficial analysis of the movement. After reading each of the articles, I inductively came up with 16 thematic codes based on patterns I saw emerging ( see appendix). As I mentioned earlier, some of these themes were present in quite a few articles (such as the topic of backlash), while other themes emerged in just a few articles (e.g. the varied reactions of feminists to the movement). For the purposes of this article, I narrowed my discussion to two themes-both of which are strongly rooted in the circulation of power-that crystalize the promise and challenges of #MeToo: the need for an increased intersectional approach, and the exposure of continued rifts in feminist thought. I offer a rhetorical analysis of these themes in response to my research questions about whose voices are being amplified in the movement and whether #MeToo is beginning to disrupt the power dynamics that allow harassment to thrive. With this rhetorical foundation of power and parrhesia in mind, I now will focus on the popular press publications that have sought to make sense of the #MeToo movement. All articles that I refer to from this point forward are included in my corpus of 100, with the exception of some citations that serve to provide further context; these citations are indicated by an asterisk (*).

Engagement with intersectionality proves a critical factor in the movement's effectiveness

First conceived by legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw, the theory of intersectionality dictates that oppressions "intersect" at various axes according to identity markers such as race, class, gender, sexuality, and ability. These intersections dictate that, for example, a cisgender white woman will experience sexism differently than a Black transgender woman. At the same time, the theory rejects the temptation to place oppressions along a hierarchy; the visual image of a traffic intersection that Crenshaw has used in her talks illustrates how various identity markers converge in a non-hierarchical fashion. The movement Black Lives Matter (BLM) enacts an intersectional approach to their activism, stating in their website materials that they recognize "the need to center the leadership of women and queer and trans people" ( "Herstory")* because those are the folx who historically have been shut out of movements or forced to work in the background. The BLM movement's centering of queer and trans women is a corrective to previous movements that marginalized these voices even as the movements claimed to seek racial justice. Referencing the fact that many of the #MeToo claims that received significant attention in the media came from upper/middle class straight white women, Burgess explains that

The exclusion [of marginalized populations] matters here because the narratives told and heard determine who is recognizable as one that can make a claim about sexual harassment and be believed...Just because one's voice is included does not mean that it is given the same weight. Access or entry to the scene of address does not guarantee equal footing. To create structural change, then, means that the norms of recognizability...must be contested. ( 351-352)*

Burgess calls attention to the fact that even when women of color come forward, their claims are not given the same value as those of white women. Perhaps #MeToo's very origin-founded by an activist Black woman, popularized by a celebrity white woman-has stifled its ability to engage an intersectional approach. Regardless, popular press accounts have articulated both the failures and successes of #MeToo in this regard and also offered insights into how #MeToo can more fully apply the principles of intersectionality.

Some critics of #MeToo have pointed out that, for example, #MeToo has failed to honor queer and transgender survivors of harassment and assault. Neesha Powell (2017) argues that the movement needs to stop pretending that violence only happens to cisgender straight women. She cites the following troubling statistics from the The Northwest Network of Bisexual, Trans, Lesbian & Gay Survivors of Abuse: "46% of bisexual women experience rape in their lifetime; lesbians are significantly more likely than others to experience gang rape; and 55% of trans men and 68% of trans women experience sexual assault in their lifetime" ( Powell). Despite these statistics, 75% of my mainstream media corpus focuses on straight, cisgender white women. Meredith Talusan (2018), writing for the publication them, argues that this erasure ignores the particular dangers for the gender non-confomring community, given the rigid gender expectations that many people still hold: "Trans and [gender non-conforming] folks are so much more vulnerable than cis women: We not only experience unwanted sexual advances and provocations, but we are also at risk of being physically assaulted or murdered when those who approach us are unable to deal with their own attractions" ( Talusan). Silencing the perspectives of queer and transgender survivors proves especially pernicious when Black queer and trans women have been at forefront of social justice movements for decades. As the leadership of the Black Lives Matter movement demonstrates, queer women of color have often functioned as parrhesiastes around a variety of social justice issues. Failing to take an intersectional approach to talking about sexual violence not only ignores survivors but also diminishes the contributions of many current and potential talented leaders.

Marginalizing the experiences of the LGBTQ community and gender non-conforming folx also presents missed opportunities for learning from these communities about how they negotiate consent, a central concern of the #MeToo movement. In his article "Cruising in the Age of Consent," Spencer Kornhaber (2019) argues that gay men in particular have much to offer in this area, as historically they have had to develop codes in order to safely find sexual partners. Kornhaber draws on his current-day experiences in Provincetown, Massachusetts, a popular gay mecca, to argue that a common question between potential lovers, "What are you into?," represents a marker of consent that, because it does not presuppose any particular behaviors, might be adopted by people of all sexual orientations. Michael Faris (2019) argues that queer sex-education comics offer instructive perspectives on consent as techné: a way of relating to others that is not limited to sexual encounters alone. He concludes that "Consent is a set of ethical practices, not simply a matter of risk and danger, but also of pleasure and boundaries. Further, as many sex-education comics argue, consent is not solely tied to sex: it is an ethical practice, a techné, for being in relation to others" ( 108)*. The comics that Faris studied emphasize that bodies always exist in relation to one another, with consent representing a critical characteristic of how effectively bodies communicate in a variety of contexts. While affirmative consent has remained a feminist goal for decades (perhaps best known due to Antioch College's Sexual Offense Prevention Policy, created in 1990), the #MeToo movement illustrates that consent remains an ill-defined and elusive concept for many people. Looking to queer folx, who have developed a range of relational practices oriented around pleasure, can help inform the discussion around what consent can look like. Leaving queer communities on the margins of #MeToo means missed opportunities for learning from a rich set of embodied knowledges. Keeping #MeToo focused on white, cisgender, straight women is not only exclusionary to marginalized populations but also counterproductive to achieving the goals of the movement.

In spite of these shortcomings, a limited intersectional approach has yielded forward progress in at least one high-profile cases of abuse that has garnered increased attention since the beginning of #MeToo. In January 2019, the Lifetime television network ran a mini-series entitled, "Surviving R. Kelly," chronicling the R&B star's long history of sexual abuse allegations; the following month, he was charged with 10 counts of sexual abuse in Chicago. Despite his marriage to a 15-year old girl, Aaliyah Haughton, in 1994; a profile in the Chicago Sun Times in 2000 regarding his interest in underage girls; an indictment of 21 counts related to child pornography in 2002 (he was acquitted at trial); and a Buzzfeed article in 2017 accusing him of holding several women against their will in a sex cult ( France), Kelly has thus far avoided jail time, enjoying widespread popularity throughout the 1990s and early 2000s. The series represented one of the few sustained, in-depth examinations of sexual abuse of women of color in the mainstream media since the #MeToo movement began (a follow-up series of the same name ran in January 2020). One of the criticisms of #MeToo has been its initial, well-publicized focus on the Harvey Weinstein survivors, the majority of whom are wealthy, cisgender, white women. Ten articles in my corpus of 100 argue that from its inception, the movement has failed to center voices of color, transgender women, and non-binary individuals. Instead, #MeToo has largely reflected "white feminism": "a common term for a particular set of feminist dispositions and discourses that consciously or unconsciously uphold Eurocentrism and white supremacy for the expedient advancement of Western, white women" ( Larson 280)*. Moments where the focus has been placed on women of color have provided reason for hope. In one such instance, Lisa Respers France (2019) argues that the #MeToo movement gave momentum to increased attention to the alleged crimes of R. Kelly. France writes,

For years Kelly's fans had heard rumors-and even made jokes-about him having a 'thing' for young girls. What's changed? The entertainment industry is now viewed through the lens of the #MeToo and Time's Up movements, making accusations like this harder to dismiss. ( CNN)

While women of color have for years played the role of parrhesiastes, calling out R.Kelly's behavior, the kairotic environment of the #MeToo movement has granted their voices greater impact. The founder of #MeToo, Tarana Burke, sat for an interview in "Surviving R. Kelly," solidifying the connection between the movement and increased (legal and public) attention to Kelly's behavior. Even so, the series argues that the lack of intervention in Kelly's prolonged abusive behavior toward young women underscores a societal disregard for women of color. #MeToo has stumbled in enacting a sustained intersectional feminism that calls attention to this plight, with numerous critics calling for a more inclusive feminism at the core of the project.

Though this instance offers reason for hope, people offering critique and analysis through the lens of #MeToo should more deliberately draw on Crenshaw's theory of intersectionality, a theory that has informed feminist analysis for decades. As many commentators have pointed out, especially in the wake of the 2016 United States presidential election, Black women have long been at the forefront of social justice activism; #MeToo needs to more explicitly center their voices, while also paying increased attention to the violence targeted at women and girls of color. Brittney Cooper (2018) has recently emerged as a powerful feminist voice, arguing that

I'm advocating for people-centered politics that hold the safety and protection of the least of these-among them Black women and girls-as a value worth fighting for. I'm asking what will it take to have a politics that puts Black women and girls (cis, trans, and everything in between) at the center and keeps them safe. What will that look like? Because I sure as hell know what it doesn't look like. (85)*

Cooper is careful here to include transgender women, a population that experiences consistently high levels of violence, particularly among communities of color. Cooper's plea models an intersectional approach that recognizes how significant strides in women's equality will not be made until the full range of women's experiences and backgrounds are honored. Enacting exclusionary practices and politics-particularly in relationship to communities of color and LGBTQ folx-is a self-defeating proposition that will ultimately stifle movements like #MeToo.

#MeToo has affirmed that longstanding rifts within feminism still exist

#MeToo has proven polarizing not only in its initial tactics-a wave of firings and public humiliation-but also based on its premise that harassment and assault are systemic problems. Several public commentators have criticized the movement as infantilizing, believing that #MeToo implies that women are powerless in the face of inappropriate behavior. Commentators Daphne Merkin, Bari Weiss, Masha Gessen, Kate Roiphe, and Caitlin Flanagan have all published pieces decrying the loss of individual agency that #MeToo allegedly implies. While it would be easy to attribute the differences perspectives on #MeToo to a generational divide, the public opposition of commentators such as Weiss (who is not yet 40) suggests that age is not necessarily a determining factor in one's orientation to the movement. Rather, disagreements among self-proclaimed feminists about #MeToo tread well-worn pathways within feminism regarding the role of individual responsibility when it comes to navigating abuse and harassment ( Donegan). While this debate has existed for decades (with white women often espousing an ethic of personal responsibility and women of color often pointing to structural inequalities), #MeToo represents a kairotic moment for increased theorizing around this issue.

In her 2018 piece for the Guardian, Moira Donegan claims that this divide among feminists is more serious than a rift caused by different generational perspectives. The debate over #MeToo demonstrates that "feminism has come to contain two distinct understandings of sexism, and two wildly different, often incompatible ideas of how that problem should be solved. One approach is individualist, hard-headed, grounded in ideals of pragmatism, realism and self-sufficiency. The other is expansive, communal, idealistic and premised on the ideals of mutual interest and solidarity" ( Donegan). These approaches place different emphases on the role of individual agency in combatting sexism, racism, homophobia, and other social ills. Folx who argue that #MeToo infantilizes women, for example, tend to claim that women should remove themselves from situations where they are being treated badly; that saying "no" can prevent assaultive behavior; that the #MeToo movement only reinforces the idea that women are defenseless. The more "communal" perspective, as Donegan puts it, emphasizes the structural nature of misogyny-that harassment and assault, while differing in degree of violence, both stem from the same underlying cause of misogynist thinking. Institutional critique fails when the institution (i.e., patriarchy and the systemic harassment of women) is not acknowledged as existing. For this reason, it is not easy to combat that structure through individual actions such as saying "no." In fact, women feel as though they cannot say "no" in situations that they recognize as potentially dangerous for many reasons, including the fear of escalation to physical violence and long term retribution.

Several self-proclaimed feminists, some of them mentioned above, have argued that #MeToo has laid out unrealistic standards for men to achieve. In one of the more forceful examples of this line of argumentation, Bari Weiss (2018) uses an incident involving Aziz Ansai as an example of #MeToo's alleged overreach. As the story was reported by journalist Katie Way (2018), Ansari used sexually aggressive behavior toward a woman, Grace (a pseudonym), on their first date. At the time that the story broke, Ansari had just won a Golden Globe for his television show Master of None and was a respected comedian.³ The story gained a good deal of press coverage, with some commentators arguing that Ansari's behavior reflects a broader lack of understanding of consent. Among those who publicly critiqued this reading of the incident, Weiss argues, "If you go home with him and discover he's a terrible kisser, say, 'I'm out.' If you start to hook up and don't like the way he smells or the way he talks (or doesn't talk), end it. If he pressures you to do something you don't want to do, use a four-letter word, stand up on your two legs and walk out his door" ( Weiss). Weiss draws upon the individualist philosophy of sexism to argue that Grace bore the responsibility for extricating herself from the situation; Ansari would have had to have read Grace's mind in order to know that she was uncomfortable.

Adjacent to Weiss' personal responsibility argument is the notion that public conversations about consent through vehicles like #MeToo inevitably paint women as weak. Caitlin Flanagan, writing for the Atlantic, picks up on this same thread by bemoaning that "Apparently there is a whole country full of young women who don't know how to call a cab, and who have spent a lot of time picking out pretty outfits for dates they hoped would be nights to remember. They're angry and temporarily powerful, and last night they destroyed a man who didn't deserve it" ( Flanagan). Generalizing about women in "pretty outfits" minimizes Grace's experience, refusing to consider why she may not have felt comfortable/able to simply "call a cab." While she bemoans the apparent inability for Grace to take forceful action, at the same time, Flanagan expresses regret that Grace (and women like her-whatever that means) have garnered some measure of power. Notably, at one point in her piece, Flanagan writes that she found "the most significant line in [Grace's] story" to be when Grace bemoans "You guys are all the fucking same." Flanagan uses Grace's exasperation to infer that this type of encounter has happened to Grace "many times before," foisting the blame onto the survivor. Flanagan preemptively declares Ansari's life ruined as a result of the incident (though he would quickly reemerge in 2019 with a Netflix standup special), showing more concern for him than for a woman who allegedly has had several men not respect her wishes. She fails to recognize the institutionalized pattern of harassment and instead casts the incident as related to the survivor's personal will.

Both Weiss and Flanagan portray #MeToo as a vehicle for spoiled, aggrieved women to seek revenge on men who have not accommodated their romantic fantasies. Neither writer acknowledges the structural inequities and institutionalized discrimination that women have historically faced in every area of life-the workplace, the home, the streets-and how those inequities bring to bear on romantic encounters. For them, #MeToo has become an excuse for women to air their individualized grievances with the intention of taking down well-meaning men. In response to both Weiss and Flanagan, Osita Nwanevu of Slate acknowledges the complexities of the Ansari story, maintaining that it is precisely for that reason that it should fall under the purview of #MeToo:

It is by no means clear what we're all to do with a man like Ansari. But one thing is for certain: if #MeToo is to be a movement that merely indicts the worst of the worst, then we might as well start winding it down. It will never, then, be truly useful to the vast majority of women who have not been preyed upon by millionaire moguls promising them roles or bosses who can lock doors from their desks. ( Nwanevu)

While the ill-intent of men such as Harvey Weinstein and Matt Lauer (both invoked above by Nwanevu) remains obvious to most, Nwanevu argues that the value of #MeToo lies in its ability to instigate conversations about less clear-cut scenarios. How might public conversations around consent develop in ways that help all people better negotiate romantic encounters? What factors bear upon a woman's decision about whether she remains in any given situation with a man (i.e., physical safety, fear of retribution, etc)? How do age, race⁴, and sexuality, among other factors, affect interpretations of consent? These more nuanced conversations seem far afield from the initial wave of #MeToo tweets, but as Nwanevu and others have pointed out, the early approaches and tactics of #MeToo can give way to discussions about less-straightforward instances of coercion, silencing, and harassment. The Ansari story represented just one opportunity to have such a discussion, though commentators such as Weiss and Flanagan imply that a "call a cab"/"I'm out" mentality would render the need for such discussions moot.

Debates over the role of personal responsibility in the face of sexism will likely steer the conversations around #MeToo in the future. If, as Flanagan and Weiss argue, sexism can be overcome with grit and persistence, #MeToo and movements like it will evade more difficult discussions about issues such as consent, where there are no straightforward answers. The personal responsibility argument is reminiscent of a bootstraps mentality: the idea that through determination and hard work alone, people are able to create a more comfortable way of life for themselves. Women, for example, should be able to "pull themselves up" from situations where sexism is at play if they would reject an alleged learned helplessness that these writers see as increasingly common. The bootstraps perspective historically has been directed at people of color, with the implicit argument that they could counter the effects of racism if only they tried hard enough. Notably, both Weiss and Flanagan are white, as are Daphne Merkin, Masha Gessen, Kate Roiphe: all writers who have publicly argued, to varying degrees, that #MeToo has infantilized women and denied their agency. Writers of color, both men (Osita Nwanevu, cited above) and women (Tarana Burke, Brittney Cooper, Stephanie Jones-Rogers-all of whom have engaged publicly in discussions about #MeToo) will have experienced the effects of racial prejudice, with women of color having experienced multiple axes of discrimination; these experiences make them more likely to adopt the perspective that countering the patriarchal institution involves more than simply willing oneself outside of it. In an interview with Elizabeth Adetiba for the Nation, Tarana Burke calls out the difference between a movement that is focused on individual transgressions and one that examines structural oppression:

Understanding the structural and historical nature of misogyny positions #MeToo as a communal project, one in which personal actions and reactions are part of a larger patriarchal system that is entrenched and normalized. From its earliest days, feminism has struggled to keep the voices of women of color, lesbians, and transgender women at the center of its work. This failure makes it even more critical that #MeToo maintain an intersectional approach and honor/learn from the voices of people of color. Doing so will steer the conversation away from one of personal responsibility toward an interrogation of the larger structural forces that limit women's choices. ( Burke)*

As Burke points out, centering people of color makes the movement more likely to become more focused on structural oppressions. Because people of color have felt these forces, they are more likely to steer the movement toward addressing the root causes of misogynistic behavior.

This overview of 100 of popular press articles about #MeToo demonstrates how the movement has evolved over time-and provides clues as to how it might continue to develop. Viewing the utterance #MeToo as an act of parrhesia, or truth-telling, begs the question of whose truth is being told and listened to. In response to my research question on this issue, my conclusion is that we are failing to center the voices of women of color, queer folx, and transgender women; if we continue to do so, #MeToo's reach and effectiveness will be limited. Those of us who carry white privilege need to be vocal when people of color find inadequate representation in these conversations; academics who are writing about #MeToo (or any topic, for that matter) need to ensure that they are citing scholars of color and building on their work in an ethical manner. This principle extends to all categories of representation. Tarana Burke bemoans that "the women of color, trans women, queer people-our stories get pushed aside and our pain is never prioritized...We don't talk about indigenous women. Their stories go untold" (). Those of us who do have privilege need to take concrete action to give these stories their due. Foucault's definition emphasizes that a parrhesiastes "recognizes truth-telling as a duty to improve or help other people" ( 19).* Truth-telling is not merely for the benefit of oneself, but also for the benefit of others. In the case of #MeToo, telling one's story can inspire others to do the same, thus creating a wider discourse around an issue than previously existed. This collective truth-telling also challenges the taboo around abuse survivors sharing their experiences in an open forum. Expectations around what are appropriate public topics of discussion have long impeded women's ability to find support in cases of abuse and harassment. #MeToo, in this sense, challenges not only expectations for public spheres but also patriarchy as an institution: the notion that women can be abused/harassed and should not upset the status quo by complaining about it.

The concept of parrhesia finds complication in the present day, which is influenced by post-truth logics. The decreasing ability for factual evidence to persuade an audience leaves the tactic of truth-telling imperiled. Burgess analyzes this current day challenge in detail, and in reflecting on #MeToo, she explains that "If the problem is, as the body of literature advocating for deep, structural changes to systems of oppression evidences, that we must alter the norms that determine who might be believed, then it is 'post-truth' discourses that are at play in setting these norms" ( 355)*. While incidents of sexual violence have often been reduced to "he said/she said" scenarios (with "he said" often holding primacy), "post-truth" calls into question even those incidents with clear factual grounding. This quandary is made even worse, according to Burgess, by the #MeToo hashtag's implied mandate that all #MeToo tweets should be believed without question. Along with the rise of #MeToo, the phrase "believe women" has gained traction in the public. Burgess worries that this kind of automatic belief helps fuel post-truth logics, precipitating a reliance on affective politics to legislate sexual harassment and assault ( 361)*. One of the two reporters who broke the Harvey Weinstein story, Jodi Kantor, has commented publicly on the "believe women" catchphrase, explaining that she and her co-author Megan Twohey "do, in many ways, want to live and work in the spirit of that statement. But there's a conflicting impetus in journalism, which is that everything needs to be scrutinized; everything needs to be checked. And we believe that really solid, well-documented reporting protects women...the best way to get people to believe women is to document those women's stories really thoroughly" ( Kantor)*. This kind of scrutiny need not derail the movement but rather counter post-truth impulses that can easily be marshalled against accusers. In his own time, Foucault was also concerned with "knowing how to recognize [parrhesiastes]" ( 170).* Recognizing a truth-teller means working to center women of color so that they can be more readily accepted in this role. It also means not shutting out others who may not agree with #MeToo politically ( Burgess 363*), as doing so could facilitate a further slippage into post-truth logics. These tactics fly in the face of current norms, but they represent hopeful attempts at intervening in institutionalized oppression.

This challenge to institutional norms speaks to the kinds of interventions that Porter et al imagine in their institutional critique methodology. Returning to my other research question, the popular press coverage that I analyzed suggests that #MeToo is disrupting the power dynamics that allow sexual harassment to thrive. The high numbers of women saying "me too" suggest a collective attempt at altering an institution that has limited their self-efficacy: the patriarchy. Through parrhesia, women are attempting to make this institution more visible, citing the ways that it bears upon their very bodies. Like all institutions, according to Porter et al, the patriarchy contains unstable boundaries that are dependent on silence and fear of retribution or not being believed; parrhesia represents one tactic by which women are seeking to further destabilize those boundaries. In order to eradicate this institution, it is not enough for women to simply "call a cab" when they find themselves in an uncomfortable position. Likewise, in the workplace (another thematic code that emerged in my data, though I do not have space here to address it), calling attention to all forms of unequal treatment is a crucial part of intervening in an institution that was not designed for women to be present. Decades after women entered the workforce en masse, we are still seeing signs (e.g., harassment, lower wages than men) that we are not completely welcome. The #MeToo movement's best chance for effecting change is-despite the grousing of some self-proclaimed feminists-remaining focused on the collective and the institutions, whether that involves calling attention to how women are treated in the workplace or in the bedroom.

Consider a case where a woman is sexually harassed at work. Oftentimes, if she wants to stay in that job, she must endure being objectified and marginalized within the work environment-or she must risk the possibility of retribution and/or a loss of professional contacts by reporting the harassment. This kind of scenario maintains a hierarchy within the workplace, with women experiencing routine professional setbacks through no fault of their own. #MeToo, then, challenges this hierarchy, in the workplace and beyond. Echoing an institutional critique approach, Melanie Yergeau and John Duffy (2011) argue in Disability Studies Quarterly that "rhetoric functions as a powerfully shaping instrument for creating conceptions of identity and positioning individuals relative to established social and economic hierarchies. Yet this perspective on rhetoric is incomplete if it does not acknowledge the capacity of individuals to respond to and re-imagine such shaping rhetorics" ( Yergeau and Duffy)*. Their conception of rhetoric emphasizes the agency of individual actors when it comes to reimagining hierarchical structures. Through this re-imagining of "shaping rhetorics," women are envisioning #MeToo as a way to resist quid pro quo arrangements, threats against their reputations, physical violence, and implications of being lesser-than. #MeToo represents a tactic by which those who have experienced sexual assault and harassment have attempted to disrupt institutional structures, enacting the kind of agency that is endemic to rhetoric.

1. Recent publications such as Rebecca Traister's Good and Mad and Brittney Cooper's Eloquent Rage have attested to the rhetorical value of women showing their anger in the public sphere.

2. Because Google has become attuned to my search patterns over time, I acknowledge that the results that were generated are likely oriented toward what the search engine determines are my political and ideological leanings (Noble 2018). For example, a number of the articles that comprise my corpus are from the New York Times, a publication that I read regularly. Additionally, the Times broke the initial Weinstein story and has maintained a focus on the issue through regular opinion pieces, profiles, and news items.

3. Ansari never disputed the story publicly and issued a statement in which he said that while he believed that his encounter with Grace was consensual, "I took her words to heart and responded privately after taking the time to process what she had said. I continue to support the movement that is happening in our culture. It is necessary and long overdue."

4. Some commentators have speculated that race may have played a role in how/why Ansari, who is Indian, was treated in the media subsequent to the encounter described in Babe. Others have critiqued the Babe story for sloppy reporting, particularly pertaining to the timeline/sequence of events in Ansari's apartment.

Impact of #MeToo

Consent

Backlash

Reticence to report abuse

Hollywood

Reporting on #MeToo

Queerness

Preserving a record of #MeToo

Pop culture coverage

NYU case

Harvey Weinstein

Media men

#MeToo has lost its way

#ChurchToo

Academia

Blue collar workplaces

Burgess, Sarah K. "Between the Desire for Law and the Law of Desire: #MeToo and the Cost of Telling the Truth Today." Philosophy and Rhetoric. vol. 51, no. 4, 2018, pp. 342-367.

Burke, Tarana and Elizabeth Adetiba. "Tarana Burke Says #MeToo Should Center Marginalized Communities." Where Freedom Starts: Sex, Power, Violence, #MeToo: A Verso Report, Verso, 2018, pp. 14-17.

Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York: Routledge, 1990.

Cooper, Brittney. Eloquent Rage. New York: Picador, 2018.

Crenshaw, Kimberlé. "Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory, and Antiracist Politics." University of Chicago Legal Forum: Vol. 1989: Iss. 1, Article 8.

DeArmas, Nicholas. Using Hashtags to Disambiguate Aboutness in Social Media Discourse: A Case Study of #OrlandoStrong. 2018. University of Central Florida. PhD dissertation.

Dolmage, Jay Timothy. Disability Rhetoric. Syracuse: Syracuse UP, 2014.

Donegan, Moira. "How #MeToo Revealed the Central Rift within Feminism Today." The Guardian, 11 May 2018. Accessed 3 Dec. 2018.

Eversley, Shelly. Equality Archive. 2015.

Faris, Michael. "Sex-Education Comics: Feminist and Queer Approaches to Alternative Sex Education." The Journal of Multimodal Rhetorics. Special Issue: Comics and/as Rhetoric, vol. 3, no. 1., 2019, pp. 86-115. Accessed 4 Jan. 2020.

Fischer, Frank. Citizens, Experts, and the Environment: The Politics of Local Knowledge. Durham: Duke UP, 2000.

Flanagan, Caitlin. "The Humiliation of Aziz Ansari." The Atlantic. 14 Jan. 2018. Accessed 20 Jan. 2019.

Foucault, Michel. Fearless Speech. Pearson, Joseph, ed. Los Angeles: Semiotext(e), 2001.

France, Lisa Respers. "'Surviving R. Kelly' is Resonating More Because of #MeToo." CNN. 17 Jan. 2019. Accessed 4 Aug 2019.

Greenberg, Zoe. "What Happens to #MeToo When a Feminist is the Accused?" The New York Times. 13 Aug. 2018. Accessed 13 Aug. 2018.

Halberstam, Jack. The Queer Art of Failure. Durham: Duke, 2011.

"Herstory." Black Lives Matter. Accessed 10 June 2019.

Kantor, Jodi and Megan Twohey. She Said: Breaking the Sexual Harassment Story that Helped Ignite a Movement. New York: Penguin, 2019.

-. Interview by Terry Gross. Fresh Air, 10 Sept. 2019. Accessed 13 Jan. 2020.

Kornhaber, Spencer. "Cruising in the Age of Consent." The Atlantic. July 2019. Accessed 2 Aug. 2019.

Larson, Kyle. "Remonstrative Agitation as Feminist Counterpublic Rhetoric." Peitho, vol. 20, no. 2, 2018, pp. 261-298. Accessed 4 Aug. 2019.

Lorde, Audre. Sister Outsider. Berkeley: Crossing Press, 1984.

MacKinnon, Catharine A. Sexual Harassment of Working Women. New Haven: Yale, 1979.

Noble, Safiya Umoja. Algorithms of Oppression: How Search Engines Reinforce Racism. New York: New York UP, 2018.

Nwanevu, Osita. "There is No Rampaging #MeToo Mob." Slate. 16 Jan 2018. Accessed 17 Mar. 2018.

Penney, Joel and Caroline Dadas. "(Re) Tweeting in the service of protest: Digital composition and circulation in the Occupy Wall Street movement." New Media & Society, vol. 16, no. 1, 2014, pp. 74-90.

Porter, James E., et al. "Institutional Critique: A Rhetorical Methodology for Change." College Composition and Communication, vol. 51, no. 4, 2000, pp. 610-642.

Powell, Neesha. "Here's How We Can Center Queer & Trans Survivors in the #MeToo Movement." Everyday Feminism. 29 Nov. 2017. Accessed 23 Aug. 2019.

Simmons, W. Michele. Participation and Power: Civic Discourse in Environmental Policy Decisions. Albany: State University of New York P, 2007.

Sullivan, Patricia and James E. Porter. Opening Spaces: Writing Technologies and Critical Research Practices. Greenwich, CT: Ablex Publishing Corporation, 1997.

Talusan, Meredith. "How #MeToo Stands to Marginalize Trans and Gender Non-Conforming People." Them. 27 Oct. 2017. Accessed 21 May 2019.

Time. "'Our Pain Is Never Prioritized.' #MeToo Founder Tarana Burke Says We Must Listen to 'Untold' Stories of Minority Women." Accessed 15 Nov. 2019.

Traister, Rebecca. Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Women's Anger. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2018.

Vie, Stephanie and Douglas Walls. "Overview." Because Facebook: Digital Rhetoric/Social Media, special issue of Kairos, vol. 19, no. 9, 2015. Accessed 10 Jan 2016.

-. Social Writing / Social Media: Publics, Presentations, and Pedagogies. Boulder: UP of Colorado, 2017.

Way, Katie. "I went on a Date with Aziz Ansari. It Turned into the Worst Night of my Life." Babe. 13 Jan. 2018. Accessed 13 Jan. 2018.Weiss, Bari. "Aziz Ansari is Guilty. Of Not Being a Mind Reader." The New York Times. 15 Jan. 2018. Accessed 17 Jan. 2018.

Yergeau, Melanie and John Duffy. "Guest Editors' Introduction." Disability and Rhetoric, special issue of Disability Studies Quarterly, vol. 31, no. 3, 2011, n.p.

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Making Sense of #MeToo: Intersectionality and Contemporary Feminism

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Author(s): Caroline Dadas Beginning in October 2017, the #MeToo movement has brought widespread attention to sexual assault and harassment, experiences that remain pervasive. The phrase "me too" was first used by activist Tarana Burke in 2006 during her non-profit work at Just Be Inc. providing resources for people who had experienced sexual assault.

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“...#MeToo is not sufficiently incorporating an intersectional approach to its activism; rather, it is de-centering the voices of people of color and queer people.”

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“Keeping #MeToo focused on white, cisgender, straight women is not only exclusionary to marginalized populations but also counterproductive to achieving the goals of the movement.”

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Founder of the Me Too movement

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Our lives, our cultures, are composed of many overlapping stories. Novelist Chimamanda Adichie tells the story of how she found her authentic cultural voice -- and warns that if we hear only a single story about another person or country, we risk a critical misunderstanding.

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boldness or freedom of speech... See the full definition

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pages 27-44, 88-104, 228-243 and 249-254

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“This failure makes it even more critical that #MeToo maintain an intersectional approach and honor/learn from the voices of people of color. Doing so will steer the conversation away from one of personal responsibility toward an interrogation of the larger structural forces that limit women’s choices. “

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Last updated: 5/31/2023

Many Americans refrain from talking about sexual orientation and gender identity or expression because it feels taboo, or because they're afraid of saying the wrong thing. This glossary was written to help give people the words and meanings to help make conversations easier and more comfortable. LGBTQ+ people use a variety of terms to identify themselves, not all of which are included in this glossary. Always listen for and respect a person's self identified terminology.

Ally | A term used to describe someone who is actively supportive of LGBTQ+ people. It encompasses straight and cisgender allies, as well as those within the LGBTQ+ community who support each other (e.g., a lesbian who is an ally to the bisexual community).

Asexual | Often called "ace" for short, asexual refers to a complete or partial lack of sexual attraction or lack of interest in sexual activity with others. Asexuality exists on a spectrum, and asexual people may experience no, little or conditional sexual attraction.

Biphobia | The fear and hatred of, or discomfort with, people who love and are sexually attracted to more than one gender.

Bisexual | A person emotionally, romantically or sexually attracted to more than one gender, though not necessarily simultaneously, in the same way or to the same degree. Sometimes used interchangeably with pansexual.

Gay | A person who is emotionally, romantically or sexually attracted to members of the same gender. Men, women and non-binary people may use this term to describe themselves.

Genderqueer | Genderqueer people typically reject notions of static categories of gender and embrace a fluidity of gender identity and often, though not always, sexual orientation. People who identify as "genderqueer" may see themselves as being both male and female, neither male nor female or as falling completely outside these categories.

Gender binary | A system in which gender is constructed into two strict categories of male or female. Gender identity is expected to align with the sex assigned at birth and gender expressions and roles fit traditional expectations.

Gender dysphoria | Clinically significant distress caused when a person's assigned birth gender is not the same as the one with which they identify.

Gender-expansive | A person with a wider, more flexible range of gender identity and/or expression than typically associated with the binary gender system. Often used as an umbrella term when referring to young people still exploring the possibilities of their gender expression and/or gender identity.

Gender expression | External appearance of one's gender identity, usually expressed through behavior, clothing, body characteristics or voice, and which may or may not conform to socially defined behaviors and characteristics typically associated with being either masculine or feminine.

Gender-fluid | A person who does not identify with a single fixed gender or has a fluid or unfixed gender identity.

Homophobia | The fear and hatred of or discomfort with people who are attracted to members of the same sex.

Intersex | Intersex people are born with a variety of differences in their sex traits and reproductive anatomy. There is a wide variety of difference among intersex variations, including differences in genitalia, chromosomes, gonads, internal sex organs, hormone production, hormone response, and/or secondary sex traits.

Lesbian | A woman who is emotionally, romantically or sexually attracted to other women. Women and non-binary people may use this term to describe themselves.

LGBTQ+ | An acronym for "lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer" with a "+" sign to recognize the limitless sexual orientations and gender identities used by members of our community.

Non-binary | An adjective describing a person who does not identify exclusively as a man or a woman. Non-binary people may identify as being both a man and a woman, somewhere in between, or as falling completely outside these categories. While many also identify as transgender, not all non-binary people do. Non-binary can also be used as an umbrella term encompassing identities such as agender, bigender, genderqueer or gender-fluid.

Outing | Exposing someone's lesbian, gay, bisexual transgender or gender non-binary identity to others without their permission. Outing someone can have serious repercussions on employment, economic stability, personal safety or religious or family situations.

Pansexual | Describes someone who has the potential for emotional, romantic or sexual attraction to people of any gender though not necessarily simultaneously, in the same way or to the same degree. Sometimes used interchangeably with bisexual.

Queer | A term people often use to express a spectrum of identities and orientations that are counter to the mainstream. Queer is often used as a catch-all to include many people, including those who do not identify as exclusively straight and/or folks who have non-binary or gender-expansive identities. This term was previously used as a slur, but has been reclaimed by many parts of the LGBTQ+ movement.

Questioning | A term used to describe people who are in the process of exploring their sexual orientation or gender identity.

Same-gender loving | A term some prefer to use instead of lesbian, gay or bisexual to express attraction to and love of people of the same gender.

Sex assigned at birth | The sex, male, female or intersex, that a doctor or midwife uses to describe a child at birth based on their external anatomy.

Sexual orientation | An inherent or immutable enduring emotional, romantic or sexual attraction to other people. Note: an individual's sexual orientation is independent of their gender identity.

Transgender | An umbrella term for people whose gender identity and/or expression is different from cultural expectations based on the sex they were assigned at birth. Being transgender does not imply any specific sexual orientation. Therefore, transgender people may identify as straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, etc.

Transitioning | A series of processes that some transgender people may undergo in order to live more fully as their true gender. This typically includes social transition, such as changing name and pronouns, medical transition, which may include hormone therapy or gender affirming surgeries, and legal transition, which may include changing legal name and sex on government identity documents. Transgender people may choose to undergo some, all or none of these processes.

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This glossary was written to help give people the words and meanings to make conversations about sexual orientation and gender expression easier.

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1-800-834-3242

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The PRIDE Center provides students looking for a connection to campus with programs and events, access to resources on campus and in the community, a welcoming hangout space, and opportunities for education about LGBTQIA communities and the intersections of many identities and experiences.

We exist to create and maintain a campus environment that is open, safe, and supportive of student diversity in the areas of sexual orientation and gender identity/expression.

The PRIDE Center is located in the University Union on the first floor (next to Round Table) and can be reached by calling (916-278-3940) or via email at pride@csus.edu

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Queer Connect

Queer Connect is a weekly support group for those who identify as LGBTQIA+. This safe space seeks to create an accessible, affirming and empowering space for students of all intersecting identities to come together in community and support one another. All topics or questions are welcome.

Attend every week or drop in once, the door is open. Meetings will be held in the Pride Center on Wednesdays from 12 pm to 1:15 pm and facilitated by Katelyn Sandoval, LMFT.
Contact Katelyn

Volunteer Opportunities

The Pride Center offers resources and support services to students enrolled at Sacramento State. Looking for ways to get involved with the Pride Center? Fill out the form and the Pride Center Coordinator will contact you to set up a meeting and get involved.
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Safe Zone Training

Safe Zone Training is a 3-hour workshop aimed at creating safe spaces/zones on campus in people, organizations, and offices/departments. At the end of each training, individuals get "Safe Zone Stickers" which they can put on office doors/windows, water bottles, binders, laptops, etc., to show that they are safe spaces for LGBTQ students, staff, and faculty.

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Lavender Graduation

Lavender Graduation is a celebration of the academic achievements of LGBTQIA students at Sac State. The event usually takes place during Finals Week every May.

Those graduating the semester before or after are welcome to participate. Graduates receive a certificate and a rainbow tassel they can wear at Commencement, and have the opportunity to invite family and friends to a reception with snacks and cake.

PRIDE Week Celebration

Pride week 2020 is April 13 th-17 th and will culminate with Queer Prom. All Sac State students get in free with their OneCard.
Register for Prom

In-Queer-Y Panels

The PRIDE Center offers a number of LGBTQ+ educational panels. These panels provide opportunities for folks to learn from a group of people about the LGBTQ community directly from members of the community.

Each panel usually has a specific topic and is moderated by staff from the Center. Panels are made up of members of the community on and off-campus. Each panel consists of about 20 minutes of panel introductions and story-telling, and Q&A with the audience.

If you have questions or need special accommodations, contact us.
Email the PRIDE Center

Additional Resources

Northwest Rainbow Alliance of the Deaf
PO Box 94116
Seattle, WA 98124

P.O. Box 14431 Deaf Queer Resource Center

San Francisco, CA 94114

773-904-0026 Windy City Rainbow Alliance of the Deaf (WCRAD)
info@wcrad.org

3656 N. Halsted Street, Chicago, IL 60613

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The PRIDE Center provides students looking for a connection to campus with programs and events, access to resources on campus and in the community, a welcoming hangout space, and opportunities for education about LGBTQIA communities and the intersections of many identities and experiences.

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Front page articles only reach 3 weeks into the past.

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Sexual violence affects people of every gender identity, and sexual orientation. People who identify as part of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) communities also experience sexual violence, and may face different or additional challenges in accessing legal, medical, law enforcement or other resources than other populations.

Effects of sexual violence

As an LGBTQ survivor of sexual violence, you may face many of the same emotions and challenges as other survivors, but also might encounter additional hurdles. Below are some common reactions to experiencing sexual violence that both LGBTQ survivors and others may experience.

Wanting to be believed. Not feeling believed or worrying that you won't be believed.

Wondering if it's your fault. Feeling shame, guilt, or like it is your fault. You may be going over the assault in your mind many times to try to figure out if you did something wrong. It was not your fault.

Feeling alone. You may feel that you are the only person who has been through sexual assault, or you may worry that others will judge or misunderstand if you tell them.

You may face disbelief that sexual violence affects LGBTQ people. You may encounter people who mistakenly believe that this doesn't happen to LGBTQ people, which may make it harder to feel that your story is believed.

It can be hard to self-identify as a survivor. For many survivors it can be difficult to identify an experience as sexual violence. However, it can be harder to identify as a survivor if the assault does not fit your idea of what sexual violence looks like or who may be involved with it.

Telling someone might be harder if you are not out yet. If you have not yet come out to friends or family about your gender identity or sexual orientation, you may feel less able to disclose sexual assault to them.

You may not find support in some faith communities. Many survivors find strength and healing in their faith, but you may encounter difficulty finding the support you deserve if your faith community does not affirm your sexual orientation or gender identity.

Ways you can support LGBTQ survivors

Sometimes it's hard to know what to do when someone you care about tells you they have experienced sexual violence. The reaction of the first person a survivor discloses to can affect if they choose to tell others or seek additional resources. Remember to listen without judgement, acknowledge the difficulty of what they went through, and tell them that you care about them.

Listen. Many people in crisis feel as though no one understands them and that they are not taken seriously. Show them they matter by giving your undivided attention. It is hard for many survivors to disclose an assault, especially if they are not out yet and by disclosing would have to come out at the same time, so drop what you are doing and be there for them.

Validate their feelings. Avoid making overly positive statements like "It will get better" or trying to manage their emotions, like "Snap out of it" or "You shouldn't feel so bad." Make statements like "I believe you" or "That sounds like a really hard thing to go through."

Express concern. Tell them in a direct way that you care about them by saying something like "I care about you" or "I am here for you."

Use inclusive language that affirms the survivor's gender identity and sexual orientation. Rather than assuming someone's gender identity or sexual orientation, use neutral language like "partner" or "date" instead of "boyfriend/girlfriend." Try not to assume what someone's gender identity or preferred pronouns are; it's a better idea to let them tell you, or you can ask what they prefer. You can always use "they" instead of "he/she" if you are unsure.

Do not ask about details of the assault. Even if you are curious about what happened and feel that you want to fully understand it, avoid asking for details of how the assault occurred. However, if a survivor chooses to share those details with you, try your best to listen in a supportive and non-judgemental way.

Supportive things to say to a survivor

"I believe you" and "It took a lot of courage to tell me about this." It can be extremely difficult for survivors to come forward and share their story. They may feel ashamed, concerned that they won't be believed, or worried they'll be blamed. Be careful not to interpret calmness as a sign that the event did not occur-everyone responds to traumatic events differently. The best thing you can do is to believe them.

"It's not your fault" and "You didn't do anything to deserve this." Survivors may blame themselves, especially if they know the perpetrator personally or were under the influence of alcohol or drugs when the assault occurred. Remind the survivor, maybe even more than once, that they are not to blame.

"You are not alone" and "I care about you and am here to listen or help in any way I can." Let the survivor know that you are there for them and willing to listen to their story if they are comfortable sharing it and that you do not judge them for what happened. Ask them if there are others in their life they also feel comfortable going to, and let them know about the help that is available through the National Sexual Assault Hotline.

"I'm sorry this happened" and "This shouldn't have happened to you." Acknowledge that the experience has affected their life. Phrases like "This must be really tough for you," and "I'm glad you felt you could share this with me" help to communicate empathy.

Read stories of LGBTQ survivors

Additional resources

National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs: A coalition of programs that document and advocate for victims of anti-LGBT and anti-HIV/AIDS violence/harassment, domestic violence, sexual assault, police misconduct and other forms of victimization. Site has a list of local anti-violence programs and publications. Hotline: 212.714.1141

The Trevor Project: Help and suicide prevention for LGBTQ youth. Hotline: 866.488.7386

LGBT National Hotline: Call center that refers to over 15,000 resources across the country that support LGBTQ individuals. Hotline: 888.THE.GLNH (843.4564) pen pals, weekly LQB and T chatrooms for youth.

Association for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Issues in Counseling: Directory of LGBT-friendly mental health specialists across the United States. Specialists listed are verified members of AGLBTIC, a division of the American Counseling Association.

FORGE (For Ourselves: Reworking Gender Expression): Home to the Transgender Sexual Violence Project. Provides services and publishes research for transgender persons experiencing violence and their loved ones.

GLSEN: A national network of educators, students, and local GLSEN Chapters working to ensure that LGBTQ students are able to learn and grow in a school environment free from bullying and harassment. Hotline 866.488.7386

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Sexual violence affects people of every gender identity, and sexual orientation. As an LGBTQ survivor of sexual violence, you may face many of the same emotions and challenges as other survivors, but also might encounter additional hurdles.

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10 Ways to Be an Ally & a Friend

10 Ways to Be an Ally & a Friend

1. Be a listener.

2. Be open-minded.

3. Be willing to talk.

4. Be inclusive and invite LGBT friends to hang out with your friends and family.

5. Don't assume that all your friends and co-workers are straight. Someone close to you could be looking for support in their coming-out process. Not making assumptions will give them the space they need.

6. Anti-LGBT comments and jokes are harmful. Let your friends, family and co-workers know that you find them offensive.

7. Confront your own prejudices and bias, even if it is uncomfortable to do so.

8. Defend your LGBT friends against discrimination.

9. Believe that all people, regardless of gender identity and sexual orientation, should be treated with dignity and respect.

10. If you see LGBT people being misrepresented in the media, contact us at glaad.org.

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10 Ways to Be an Ally & a FriendBe a listener.Be open-minded.Be willing to talk.Be inclusive and invite LGBT friends to hang out with your friends and family.Don't assume that all your friends and co-workers are straight. Someone close to you could be looking for support in their coming-out process.

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eloquent rage: a black feminist discovers her superpower

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Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower

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Remember when LGBTQ+ characters were the sidekick? The stereotypical white gay who popped up in a recurring capacity for comedic effect? Or if they were the central character, their sexuality would be downplayed and scenes of intimacy would be non-existent? Yeah, we'll admit: we don't really miss those days. No shade to some of these characters of course, because a lot of them paved the way for the positive queer representation we see today. As of 2020, representation for the LGBTQ+ community in television has never been better. In fact, a recent report from GLAAD discovered that the amount of queer characters on our screens has increased by over 100 to a new record. It's impossible to deny the role Netflix has had in this. Over the past few years, the streaming service has built a reputation as one of the most inclusive sources for content, whether it's originals such as Orange is the New Black, Dear White People or Hollywood, to network classics like American Horror Story, Pose or RuPaul's Drag Race. Netflix boasts a plethora of entertain(t)ing LGBTQ+ comedies, dramas and thrillers, so we've rounded up 46 of the best that you can stream right now.

AJ and the Queen (2020)
Cast: RuPaul, Izzy G., Michael-Leon Wooley, Josh Segarra, Katerina Tannenbaum, Tia Carrere, Matthew Wilkas
In 2020, RuPaul made her Netflix Original debut on AJ and the Queen as Ruby Red, a "bigger-than-life but down-on-her-luck drag queen" who travels across America in a rundown RV from the 90s; accompanied by a wise-cracking 10-year-old orphan called AJ. Each episode, Ruby visits a drag club and performs a killer musical number, where she is joined by some of the most legendary contestants from Drag Race HERstory, such as Bianca Del Rio, Latrice Royale, Katya, Jinks Monsoon and Monique Heart. The Emmy-winner wrote and executive produced the show alongside Michael Patrick King, who is best known for directing, writing and producing iconic HBO comedy Sex and the City, as well as Lisa Kudrow's lauded satirical drama, The Comeback. Sadly, the show was cancelled after just one season.

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (2018 - present)
Cast: Kiernan Shipka, Ross Lynch, Lucy Davis, Miranda Otto, Jaz Sinclair, Tati Gabrielle, Adeline Rudolph, Richard Coyle, Chance Perdomo, Darren Mann
Netflix's gritty reboot of Sabrina the Teenage Witch stars Mad Men's Kiernan Shipka as the titular spellbinding character, who is forced to juggle her supernatural abilities with her mortal life. There are quite a few queer moments throughout the series, such as the relationship between pansexual warlock Ambrose Spellman (Chance Perdomo) and Luke Chalfont (Darren Mann), Susie Putnam (Lachlan Watson) coming out as trans and of course that steamy orgy scene. Sadly, the series has been cancelled and will return for eight final episodes later this year.

Modern Family (2009 - 2020)

Cast: Ed O'Neill, Sofia Vergara, Julie Bowen, Ty Burrell, Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Eric Stonestreet, Sarah Hyland, Ariel Winter, Nolan Gould, Rico Rodriguez, Aubrey Anderson-Emmons, Jeremy Maguire

Mockumentary sitcom Modern Family follows the lives of Jay Pritchett (Ed O'Neill) and his extended family, all of whom live in the suburbs of Los Angeles. Eric Stonestreet and Jesse Tyler Ferguson have received universal acclaim for their portrayal as gay couple Cameron Tucker and Mitchell Pritchett, both receiving Primetime Emmy Awards. It was on the air for over 11 years, spanning 250 episodes, making it ABC's longest-running sitcom in history.

Next in Fashion (2020)
Cast: Tan France, Alexa Chung
Netflix's new style series Next In Fashion sees 18 talented designers compete across 10 episodes for a huge cash prize of $250,000 and the opportunity to debut their own collection on Net-a-Porter. It's hosted by Queer Eye's resident style guru Tan France and British presenter, model and designer Alexa Chung, who bring plenty of fun to the high drama of the workroom. Get ready to binge your way through 10 episodes of workroom drama and stunning runway looks on a whole other scale.

One Day at a Time (2017 - present)
Cast: Justina Machado, Rita Moreno, Isabella Gomez, Marcel Ruiz, Todd Grinnell, Stephen Tobolowsky
One Day at a Time follows the story of Cuban-American mother and former Army veteran who suffers from PTSD, and her relationship with her family. This year, the show was cancelled by Netflix which subsequently caused a massive uproar from fans on social media. It became known for tackling issues such as homophobia, racism and depression, topics that aren't usually dealt with in the sitcom genre. Following the show's controversial cancellation, Pop revived the series - making One Day at a Time the first original series cancelled by Netflix to be revived on another network.

The Politician (2019 - present)
Cast: Ben Platt, Jessica Lange, Gwyneth Paltrow, Zoey Deutch, Lucy Boynton, David Corenswet, Julia Schlaepfer, Laura Dreyfuss, Theo Germaine, Rahne Jones, Bette Midler, Judith Light
Ryan Murphy's satirical comedy follows Ben Platt's character Payton Hobart, a wealthy student from California who is determined to become the President of the United States. First, he has to navigate the most treacherous political landscape of all: Saint Sebastian High School. It's stylish, it's camp, and it features the most iconic quote of 2019 courtesy of Jessica Lange: "I don't understand why calling that gay man a butt-munch was such a scandal. That's what gays do: munch butts and celebrate Halloween." In a recent interview, Murphy said he would like to "do three seasons total" and have the third season pick up a few years after the season two finale, to have "Ben Platt get a little bit older for his final race."

Pose (2018 - present)
Cast: Mj Rodriguez, Indya Moore, Dominique Jackson, Billy Porter, Ryan Jamaal Swain, Hailee Sahar, Angel Bismark Curiel, Dyllon Burnside, Jeremy McClain and Jason A. Rodriguez.
Created by Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and Stephen Canals, Pose focuses on the queer African-American and Latino communities of the ballroom scene in 1980s New York City, and features the largest amount of trans actors in regular roles of any scripted television series in history. Since the series premiered in 2018, it has received universal acclaim from fans and critics. Last year, Billy Porter - who plays Pray Tell, the show's resident emcee in the Ball scene - made history by becoming the first openly gay black actor to win the Emmy Award for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series. Due to complicated from COVID-19, the third season won't premiere until next year.

Schitt's Creek (2015 - 2020)
Cast: Catherine O'Hara, Eugene Levy, Dan Levy, Annie Murphy, Emily Hampshire, Jennifer Robertson, Chris Elliot, Tim Rozon, Sarah Levy, Dustin Milligan, Noah Reid
The criminally underrated Schitt's Creek stars Emmy Award winner Catherine O'Hara, Eugene Levy, Dan Levy, and Annie Murphy as the Rose family, wealthy socialites who lose their fortune and have to take refuge in a town they bought as a joke, Schitt's Creek. The series is one of the funniest comedies currently on television and features a pansexual character in David, played ever so brilliantly by Dan Levy. He embarks on relationships with both men and women, and it's never presented as an issue, it's simply accepted by every character. All six seasons are available to view now on Netflix UK.

Star Trek: Discovery (2017 - present)
Cast: Soneque Martin-Green, Doug Jones, Shazad Latif, Anthony Rapp, Mary Wiseman, Jason Isaacs, Wilson Cruz, Anson Moun
Star Trek: Discovery made headlines last year by boldly going where no men (on the show) have gone before, by featuring the franchise's first ever gay couple. Lt. Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp) and Dr Hugh Culber (Wilson Cruz) locked lips on the USS Discovery during the mid-season finale, becoming the first ever gay kiss in the Star Trek universe. The series - which stars Sonequa Martin-Green in the lead role - is set 10 years before we see Captain Kirk and Spock embark on their adventures on the USS Enterprise. Season three will premiere in October on CBS.

Tiger King: Murder, Mayhem and Madness (2020)
Cast: Joe Exotic, Carole Baskin, Jeff Lowe, Bhagavan Antle, John Finlay, Rick Kirkham, John Reinke, Saft Saffery, Howard Baskin, Travis Maldonado, Dillon Passage, Tim Stark
Tiger King: Murder, Mayhem and Madness chronicles the life of Joseph Maldonado-Passage, aka Joe Exotic, and his disturbing feuds with fellow "big cat" conservationists such as Big Cat Rescue owner Carole Baskin. The show is... wild. There's a murder plot, a Nxivm-esque sex cult, political campaigns, a hell of a lot of country music and an emphasis on animal rights. Exotic also leaves the fashion world shaking with his various groundbreaking ensembles. Due to the global coronavirus pandemic forcing people to quarantine inside their homes, the true crime documentary has become one of the most popular and critically-acclaimed Netflix series of all time.

You Me Her (2016 - present)
Cast: Rachel Blanchard, Greg Poehler, Priscilla Faia, Melanie Papalia, Jarod Joseph Related: The best LGBTQ+ films you can watch right now on Netflix.
When married couple Jack (Greg Poehler) and Emma Trakarsky (Rachel Blanchard) realise they need to amp up their sex life, they invite 25-year-old college student and part-time escort Izzy Silva (Priscilla Faira) into their marriage to form a thruple. The series follows the three as they navigate various social norms and prejudices and their own feelings of insecurity. The fifth season will be its last.

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46 of the best LGBTQ+ shows you can watch right now on Netflix

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Remember when LGBTQ+ characters were the sidekick? The stereotypical white gay who popped up in a recurring capacity for comedic effect? Or if they were the central character, their sexuality would be downplayed and scenes of intimacy would be non-existent? Yeah, we'll admit: we don't really miss those days.

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All Amazon, Indiebound, and Bookshop links are affiliate links. Purchasing through these links brings a small percentage of income back to the site, so please do!

This is the UK release. It will be released in the US on July 19.

Faced with dangerous plots and hidden enemies, can Lia and Xania learn to rely on each another, as they discover that all is not fair in love and treason?

In a world where the throne means both power and duty, they must decide what to sacrifice for their country - and for each other ...
Buy it: The Book Depository | Bookshop
A riotous collection of "witty and captivating" (Bitch Magazine) essays by a gay Filipino immigrant in America learning that everything is about sex-and sex is about power

When Matt Ortile moved from Manila to Las Vegas, the locals couldn't pronounce his name. Harassed as a kid for his brown skin, accent, and femininity, he believed he could belong in America by marrying a white man and shedding his Filipino identity. This was the first myth he told himself. The Groom Will Keep His Name explores the various tales Ortile spun about what it means to be a Vassar Girl, an American Boy, and a Filipino immigrant in New York looking to build a home.

As we meet and mate, we tell stories about ourselves, revealing not just who we are, but who we want to be. Ortile recounts the relationships and whateverships that pushed him to confront his notions of sex, power, and the model minority myth. Whether swiping on Grindr, analyzing DMs, or cruising steam rooms, Ortile brings us on his journey toward radical self-love with intelligence, wit, and his heart on his sleeve.

Ava, newly arrived in Hong Kong from Dublin, spends her days teaching English to rich children.

Julian is a banker. A banker who likes to spend money on Ava, to have sex and discuss fluctuating currencies with her. But when she asks whether he loves her, he cannot say more than "I like you a great deal."

Enter Edith. A Hong Kong-born lawyer, striking and ambitious, Edith takes Ava to the theater and leaves her tulips in the hallway. Ava wants to be her-and wants her.

And then Julian writes to tell Ava he is coming back to Hong Kong... Should Ava return to the easy compatibility of her life with Julian or take a leap into the unknown with Edith?

Everyone at the prestigious Bexley School believes that Sage Morgan and Charlie Carmichael are meant to be....that it's just a matter of time until they realize that they are actually in love.

When Luke Morrissey shows up on the Bexley campus his presence immediately shakes things up. Charlie and Luke are drawn to each other the moment they meet, giving Sage the opportunity to steal away to spend time with Charlie's twin brother, Nick.

But Charlie is afraid of what others will think if he accepts that he has much more than a friendship with Luke. And Sage fears that things with Nick are getting too serious too quickly. The duo will need to rely on each other and their lifelong friendship to figure things out with the boys they love.

Living in her mom's old bedroom, Sasha has no idea who she is anymore. Luckily, her grandparents are certain they know who she should be: A lawyer in the making. Ten pounds skinnier. In a socially advantageous relationship with a boy from a good family-a boy like Cole Edwards.

And Cole has ideas for who Sasha should be, too. His plus one at lunch. His girlfriend. His.

Sasha tries to make everything work, but that means folding away her love of photography, her grief for her mother, and he growing interest in the magnificently clever Lily Chen. Sasha wants to follow Lily off the beaten path, to discover hidden beaches, secret menus, and the truth about dinosaur pee.

But being friends with Lily might lead somewhere new. Is Sasha willing to stop being the girl everyone expects and let the girl beneath the surface breath through?

Brilliant, guarded, and endlessly driven, Alden Roth may as well be the poster boy for perfection...but even he can't help but feel a little broken inside.

When these mortal enemies are stuck together on a cross-country road trip to the biggest fan convention of their lives, their infamous rivalry takes a backseat as an unexpected connection is forged. Yet each has a reason why they have to win the upcoming Odyssey gaming tournament and neither is willing to let emotion get in the way―even if it means giving up their one chance at something truly magical.

But when the financial aid she was counting on unexpectedly falls through, Liz's plans come crashing down . . . until she's reminded of her school's scholarship for prom king and queen. There's nothing Liz wants to do less than endure a gauntlet of social media trolls, catty competitors, and humiliating public events, but despite her devastating fear of the spotlight she's willing to do whatever it takes to get to Pennington.

The only thing that makes it halfway bearable is the new girl in school, Mack. She's smart, funny, and just as much of an outsider as Liz. But Mack is also in the running for queen. Will falling for the competition keep Liz from her dreams . . . or make them come true?

Ian has just been diagnosed with HIV.

Victor, to his great relief, has tested negative.

Henrique has been living with HIV for the past three years.

When Victor finds himself getting tested for HIV for the first time, he can't help but question his entire relationship with Henrique, the guy he has- had-been dating. See, Henrique didn't disclose his positive HIV status to Victor until after they had sex, and even though Henrique insisted on using every possible precaution, Victor is livid.

That's when Victor meets Ian, a guy who's also getting tested for HIV. But Ian's test comes back positive, and his world is about to change forever. Though Victor is loath to think about Henrique, he offers to put the two of them in touch, hoping that perhaps Henrique can help Ian navigate his new life. In the process, the lives of Ian, Victor, and Henrique will become intertwined in a story of friendship, love, and stigma-a story about hitting what you think is rock bottom, but finding the courage and support to keep moving forward.

Set in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, this utterly engrossing debut by Brazilian author Lucas Rocha calls back to Alex Sanchez's Rainbow Boys series, bringing attention to how far we've come with HIV, while shining a harsh light on just how far we have yet to go.

Dr. Jessie Drake, in her mid-sixties, following the sudden deaths of her parents and Kat, her partner of twenty years, has fled the Vermont life she has known for decades.

In an effort to escape the oppressive constancy of grief, she accepts a job from an old flame from her residency in New York City's Roosevelt Hospital, and agrees to assist Ben as the ship's doctor on a British liner. Jessie boards in Hong Kong, and, as the Amphitrite sails throughout Southeast Asia and the Middle East, cruise ship antics ensue. Jessie is lulled back into a long-ago romance with the ship's co-doctor, and both she and her new/old beau become enmeshed with the ship's lead (female) singer/entertainer. Among the passengers who fling socialized behavior aside on the high seas: a former Florida beauty queen (Miss Florida Power and Light) on a second honeymoon with her husband, as she causes high-velocity scandal, while juggling onboard affairs with a suicidal golf pro, and a defrocked priest hired as one of the liner's gentleman hosts, until she vanishes-poof!-from the ship off the coast of Portugal . . . As the ship sails through the Gulf of Aden and into a possible hijacking by Somali pirates, Jessie retreats into her lover's journals, written during her final months, journals filled with sketches of potential characters, observations on life and love-as well as drafts of a long new poem in progress, "Swan Song," that seems to be about being in love with someone else, someone new. As Jessie's grief turns to suspicion about the woman she thought she knew so well, her illumination of the poem's meaning begins to lift the constraints of the past and make clear the way toward the future.

Saoirse doesn't believe in love at first sight. She definitely doesn't believe in happy endings. If they were real, her mother would still be able to remember her name. She wouldn't be in a care home with early onset dementia, a condition Saoirse may one day develop herself. So Saoirse isn't looking for a relationship. She doesn't see the point.

But Saoirse is about to break her own rules. For a girl with one blue freckle, an irresistible sense of mischief, and a passion for rom-coms.

Unbothered by Saoirse's no-relationships rulebook, Ruby proposes a loophole. They don't need true love to have one summer of fun, complete with every cliché, rom-com montage-worthy date they can dream up-and a binding agreement to end their romance come fall.

It would be the perfect plan . . . if they weren't forgetting one thing about the Falling in Love Montage: when it's over, the characters have fallen in love for real.

There's nothing "safe" about Jake's future-not when he's attracted to Kenny Liu, swim team captain and rebel against conformity. And certainly not when he secretly applies to Miami University. Jake's life begins to outpace his small town's namesake, which doesn't make it any easier to come out to his mom, or Maria, or the world.
But Jake is full of secrets, including the strange blue markings on his skin that glow when in contact with water. What power will he find when he searches for his identity, and will he turn his back to the current or dive headfirst into the waves?

Short Stuff ed. by Alysia Constantine (9th)

It could start anywhere...

At a summer vacation at the lake, just before heading off to college. In a coffee shop, when the whole world is new. In a dragon's cave, surrounded by gold. At a swim club, with the future in sight.

In Short Stuff, bestselling and award-winning authors dial down the angst in four meet-cute LGBTQ young adult romances.

Belladonna by Anbara Salam (9th)

Isabella is beautiful, inscrutable, and popular. Her best friend, Bridget, keeps quietly to the fringes of their Connecticut Catholic school, watching everything and everyone, but most especially Isabella.

In 1957, when the girls graduate, they land coveted spots at the Accademia di Belle Arti di Pentila in northern Italy, a prestigious art history school on the grounds of a silent convent. There, free of her claustrophobic home and the town that will always see her and her Egyptian mother as outsiders, Bridget discovers she can reinvent herself as anyone she desires... perhaps even someone Isabella could desire in return.

But as that glittering year goes on, Bridget begins to suspect Isabella is keeping a secret from her, one that will change the course of their lives forever.

Illi's worst fears are confirmed when General Barca arrives, bearing news that her fledgling nation, Hathage, also faces this mounting danger. In her search for the source of the guul, the general exposes a catastophic secret hidden on the outskirts of Ghadid.

To protect her city and the realm, Illi must travel to Hathage and confront her inner demons in order to defeat a greater one - but how much can she sacrifice to protect everything she knows from devastation?

When ex-CIA agent Vera Kelly loses her job and her girlfriend in a single day, she reluctantly goes into business as a private detective. Heartbroken and cash-strapped, she takes a case that dredges up dark memories and attracts dangerous characters from across the Cold War landscape. Before it's over, she'll chase a lost child through foster care and follow a trail of Dominican exiles to the Caribbean. Forever looking over her shoulder, she nearly misses what's right in front of her: her own desire for home, connection, and a new romance at the local bar.

In this lush, sensuous novel interwoven with themes of social justice and found family, it's up to Ivory and her magician love-with the help of a dancing bear-to track down an evil priest and save their circus family before it's too late.

She'll challenge thousands of other performers in an internationally televised competition looking for the next K-pop star, and she'll do it better than anyone else.

When Skye nails her audition, she's immediately swept into a whirlwind of countless practices, shocking performances, and the drama that comes with reality TV. What she doesn't count on are the highly fat-phobic beauty standards of the Korean pop entertainment industry, her sudden media fame and scrutiny, or the sparks that soon fly with her fellow competitor, Henry Cho.

But Skye has her sights on becoming the world's first plus-sized K-pop star, and that means winning the competition-without losing herself.

When Lady Eleanor "Nell" St. George arrives in Wales after serving as a veterinarian in the Great War, she doesn't come alone. With her is her former captain's beloved warhorse, which she promised to return to him-and a series of recurring nightmares that torment both her heart and her soul. She wants only to complete her task, then find refuge with her family, but when Nell meets the captain's eldest daughter, all that changes.

Beatrice Hughes is resigned to life as the dutiful daughter. Her mother grieves for the sons she lost to war; the care of the household and remaining siblings falls to Beatrice, and she manages it with a practical efficiency. But when a beautiful stranger shows up with her father's horse, practicality is the last thing on her mind.

Despite the differences in their social standing, Beatrice and Nell give in to their unlikely attraction, finding love where they least expect it. But not everything in the captain's house is as it seems. When Beatrice's mother disappears under mysterious circumstances, Nell must overcome her preconceptions to help Beatrice, however she's able. Together they must find out what really happened that stormy night in the village, before everything Beatrice loves is lost-including Nell.

Time changes things.

That painful fact of life couldn't be truer for the Sullivan sisters. Once, they used to be close, sharing secrets inside homemade blanket castles. Now, life in the Sullivan house means closed doors and secrets left untold.

Fourteen-year-old Murphy, an aspiring magician, is shocked by the death of Siegfried, her pet turtle. Seventeen-year-old Claire is bound for better things than her Oregonian hometown-until she receives a crushing rejection from her dream college. And eighteen-year-old Eileen is nursing a growing addiction in the wake of life-altering news.

Then, days before Christmas, a letter arrives, informing the sisters of a dead uncle and an inheritance they knew nothing about. The news forces them to band together in the face of a sinister family mystery...and, possibly, murder.

The Sullivan Sisters is an unforgettable novel about the ghosts of the past, the power of connection, and the bonds of sisterhood.

Brooklyn, 1970s. Born into the ruins of a Syrian Jewish family that once had it all, David is painfully displaced. Trapped in an insular religious community that excludes him and a family coming apart at the seams, he is plunged into suicidal depression by the age of eight. Through adolescence, David tries to suppress his homosexual feelings and fit in, but when pushed to the breaking point, he makes the bold decision to cut off his family, erase his past, and leave everything he knows behind. There's only one problem: who should he be? Bouncing between identities he steals from the pages of fashion magazines, tomes of philosophy, sitcoms and foreign films, and practically everyone he meets-from Rastafarians to French preppies-David begins to piece together an entirely new adult self. But is this the foundation for a life, or just a kind of quicksand?

Moving from the glamour and dysfunction of 1970s Brooklyn, to the sybaritic materialism of Reagan's 1980s to post-9/11 New York, Lot Six offers a quintessentially American tale of an outsider striving to reshape himself in the funhouse mirror of American culture. Adjmi's memoir is a genre bending Künstlerroman in the spirit of Charles Dickens and Alison Bechdel, a portrait of the artist in the throes of a life and death crisis of identity. Raw and lyrical, and written in gleaming prose that veers effortlessly between hilarity and heartbreak, Lot Six charts Adjmi's search for belonging, identity, and what it takes to be an artist in America.
Buy it: Amazon | B&N

Will Sedgwick can't believe that after months of searching for his oldest friend, Martin Easterbrook is found hiding in an attic like a gothic nightmare. Intent on nursing Martin back to health, Will kindly kidnaps him and takes him to the countryside to recover, well away from the world.

Martin doesn't much care where he is or even how he got there. He's much more concerned that the man he's loved his entire life is currently waiting on him hand and foot, feeding him soup and making him tea. Martin knows he's a lost cause, one he doesn't want Will to waste his life on.

As a lifetime of love transforms into a tender passion both men always desired but neither expected, can they envision a life free from the restrictions of the past, a life with each other?

by E. Davies (26th)

Agoraphobe Jaden shouldn't have let his big brother put a ticket in a blind date raffle for him. He wasn't expecting to win. And certainly not an overnight trip to the Grand Canyon with a gorgeous stranger-and his total opposite, a hunky wilderness guide.

Henry's excited to meet a guy he clicks with, having finally finished bottom surgery. He's been living stealth as the man he is for years, but he's growing tired of hiding his past. Jaden not only accepts him, he captivates Henry, who resolves to be courageous and vulnerable in the rest of his life.

Back home in Denver, Henry starts to take pride in reconnecting with the trans community, while Jaden pushes himself out of his comfort zone. But freedom always comes at a price. Can they take the plunge into their wide open future together?

Summer Hemlock never meant to come back to Omen, Massachusetts.

But with his mother in need of help, Summer has no choice but to return to his hometown, take up a teaching residency at the Albin Academy boarding school-and work directly under the man who made his teenage years miserable.

Professor Fox Iseya.

Forbidding, aloof, commanding: psychology instructor Iseya is a cipher who's always fascinated and intimidated shy, anxious Summer. But that fascination turns into something more when the older man challenges Summer to be brave. What starts as a daily game to reward Summer with a kiss for every obstacle overcome turns passionate, and a professional relationship turns quickly personal.

Yet Iseya's walls of grief may be too high for someone like Summer to climb...until Summer's infectious warmth shows Fox everything he's been missing in life.

Now both men must be brave enough to trust each other, to take that leap.

To find the love they've always needed...

Just like that.

Introducing Brie Hutchens: soap opera super fan, aspiring actor, and so-so student at her small Catholic school. Brie has big plans for eighth grade. She's going to be the star of the school play and convince her parents to let her go to the performing arts high school. But when Brie's mom walks in on her accidentally looking at some possibly inappropriate photos of her favorite actress, Brie panics and blurts out that she's been chosen to crown the Mary statue during her school's May Crowning ceremony. Brie's mom is distracted with pride-but Brie's in big trouble: she has not been chosen. No one has. Worse, Brie has almost no chance to get the job, which always goes to a top student.

Desperate to make her lie become truth, Brie turns to Kennedy, the girl everyone expects to crown Mary. But sometimes just looking at Kennedy gives Brie butterflies. Juggling her confusing feelings with the rapidly approaching May Crowning, not to mention her hilarious non-star turn in the school play, Brie navigates truth and lies, expectations and identity, and how to-finally-make her mother really see her as she is.
Buy it: Amazon
by Diana Clarke (30th)

Rose and Lily Winters are twins, as close as the bond implies; they feel each other's emotions, taste what the other is feeling. Like most young women, they've struggled with their bodies and food since childhood, and high school finds them turning to food-or not-to battle the waves of insecurity and the yearning for popularity. But their connection can be as destructive as it is supportive, a yin to yang. when Rose stops eating, Lily starts-consuming everything Rose won't or can't.

Within a few years, Rose is about to mark her one-year anniversary in a rehabilitation facility for anorexics. Lily, her sole visitor, is the only thing tethering her to a normal life.

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All Amazon, Indiebound, and Bookshop links are affiliate links. Purchasing through these links brings a small percentage of income back to the site, so please do! This is the UK release. It will be released in the US on July 19.

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One of the most controversial points in the modern discussion of rape is consent - by failing to communicate, rapes can sometimes occur without the rapist even understanding what they've done or why the victim feels the way they do. Comic artist Alli Kirkham helped clear the question up with a series of 7 comics that illustrate sexual consent issues with everyday situations that are easier for everyone to understand.

For most, the word "rape" conjures up images of shadowy hooded figures sexually assaulting people at night. Violent criminals don't concern themselves with consent, which covers the uncertain 'grey area' that many people are confused about. According to RAINN, an anti-sexual-violence organization in the U.S., 47% of rapists are the victim's friend or acquaintance and 4/5 of assaults are by someone known to the victim. Men and women need to educate themselves about consent to avoid crossing each others' boundaries without even knowing it.

More info: Tumblr | Twitter (h/t: upworthy, everydayfeminism)

1. You are staying until it's done

2. You said I could have it once

3. You said you liked it

4. You said you wanted it

5. You are my wife and it's your duty

6. You owe me

7. You are asking for it

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Rape And Consent Explained In 7 Simple Comics By Alli Kirkham

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One of the most controversial points in the modern discussion of rape is consent. Comic artist Alli Kirkham helped clear the question up with a series of 7 comics that illustrate sexual consent issues with everyday situations that are easier for everyone to understand.

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As the fallout from multiple accusations of sexual assault against Harvey Weinstein reverberates throughout Hollywood and beyond, and more powerful men of all industries are exposed as harassers and rapists, the social media call #metoo continues to spread awareness of the extent and degree of cisgender women's experiences of toxic masculinity. Yet as the movement to bring powerful men to justice continues to grow, we must also reckon with #metoo's limitations, chiefly that the centering of cisgender women's experiences of harassment and assault excludes and arguably erases the lived realities of those whose gender identity and expression leave them at their most vulnerable - trans and gender-nonbinary people.

A number of trans writers have already commented on the difficulties trans folks have in joining the #metoo conversation. Sarah McBride writes about the hardships of publicly disclosing her sexual assault as a trans woman, and Raquel Willis advocates for extending the resonance of #metoo to trans and GNC people. But for both McBride and Willis, there exists an assumption that cisgender women should rightfully reside at the center of the assault and harassment discussion, which does not account for how such a centering oppresses trans and GNC people in ways that are reminiscent of how cis men marginalize cis women.

If we operate under the principle that numbers or political power shouldn't matter, that our priority should be to center the experience of the most vulnerable people in relation to an issue, then it's clear that #metoo uses its own centers of power - mainly the sheer number of cis women and the fact that the current discussion involves famous people - to prioritize the needs of cisgender women over trans and GNC folks. There have been many calls for cisgender men who've been victims of harassment and assault to yield to the experiences of more oppressed cisgender women, which is necessary and vital work. Yet, if cis women are operating under the principle that those who experience the greatest oppression must be centered, then they might consider yielding to trans and GNC people, because that demographic experiences the greatest oppression because of gender.

There have been numerous examples of the heinous ways that trans and GNC people - especially though not exclusively trans women and nonbinary femmes of color - experience assault and harassment. Islan Nettles, for example, was murdered because a man who made sexual advances on her realized she was transgender; Mercedes Williamson was dating a man and was killed because he didn't want his friends to know he was dating a trans woman; Victoria Carmen White was shot and killed because her killer discovered she was transgender after meeting her at a club and coming home with her.

Trans and GNC folks are so much more vulnerable than cis women: We not only experience unwanted sexual advances and provocations, but we are also at risk of being physically assaulted or murdered when those who approach us are unable to deal with their own attractions. Transmasculine people are at risk of assault themselves when they're seen as "less than" men, or if they threaten the superiority of cis men. But because their hardships aren't connected to powerful men, and because society considers them less important than cisgender women (especially ones who are famous and white), it's not their plight that sparks news or widespread social media attention.

It's also vital to note that an often-overlooked thread uniting LGBTQ+ victims of gender-based violence is the way they are often victimized for existing between genders. Though people across the spectrum of LGBTQ+ identity have experienced gender-based violence, what comes into play in dangerous situations is typically not how victims themselves identify, but the fact that the people who attack them see them as not belonging to a binary gender, or subscribing to binary gender norms. This is true whether it's femme gay men, trans women, or nonbinary transfemmes, or even transmasculine people who are seen as threats to cis men. Any dynamic that casts binary women as the most vulnerable victims of gender-based violence at a structural level ignores how those who fall outside of the binary are even more vulnerable to pervasive and severe attack.

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How #MeToo Stands to Marginalize Trans and Gender-Nonconforming People

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As the fallout from multiple accusations of sexual assault against Harvey Weinstein reverberates throughout Hollywood and beyond, and more powerful men of all industries are exposed as harassers and rapists, the social media call #metoo continues to spread awareness of the extent and degree of cisgender women's experiences of toxic masculinity.